Page 61 of Monk
“How fucking dare you,” I hiss. “This is my life. Not yours. I’m a grown woman and the decisions are mine to make.”
“First, I don’t appreciate that kinda language in my house—”
“Sorry, but I don’t give a shit about your delicate fucking sensibilities right now,” I fire back.
“Second,” he continues as if I haven’t just interrupted him, “I think you’re makin’ a big mistake here.”
“Then it’s my mistake to make, Dad. This is my life you’re fucking with. What are you not understanding about that?”
“Your mistake brought you to my door, honey. I think I get some say in—”
“No, you don’t. This is my life, Dad. My life,” I cry out. “And don’t worry, I’ll be gone tomorrow.”
His sigh is long, pained, and dramatic. He looks at me with genuine disappointment in his eyes. Unlike when I was a child, I don’t let it hurt me this time. And I don’t let it guilt me into doing as he wants. I’m not that same, stupid little girl begging for her father’s attention and approval. I’m a grown woman and I’m taking control of my life.
“I thought this was a safe place for me to come. I thought I could spend a little time licking my wounds without fear of judgment or you doing something like… this,” I say, gesturing to the house.
“I’ve never hidden how I feel about marriage and the importance of workin’ through the hard times. If you thought I’d be any different, then that mistake’s on you, honey.”
“Yeah, the mistakes here are just piling up.”
“When I knew you spent the night with that… with him,” he manages to catch himself rather than risk inflaming me further. “I saw you headin’ down a dark path. I saw you gettin’ involved in bad things, Kasey. And I wouldn’t be doin’ my job as your father if I didn’t do somethin’ to help stop that.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I shake my head and turn away from him, staring out at the forest again.
“Jake Tulowisky is a bad person. Always has been. The guys he rides with are dangerous people,” he says evenly. “What kind of father would I be if I let you get involved with that mess again.”
“You don’t know the first thing about Jacob or any of his friends,” I reply. “You just sit there all high and mighty, judging them because of the way they look without ever having had a single conversation with them, Dad. That makes you ignorant at best, a bigot at worst.”
“Careful, Kasey. I know you’re upset, but you don’t want to say something you can’t take back later.”
I turn to him, my eyes narrow and my jaw clenched. “I know exactly what I’m saying. And just so you know, Spencer may dress well and have an education, but he’s a much worse person than Jacob or any of the Pharaohs.”
“I think you need to talk to your husband. I think you need to work things out with him,” he tells me. “He’s a solid and stable man. He’s built you a good life.”
I snort. “You know as little about Spencer as you do about Jacob. And you’re dead wrong about both of them.”
“Kasey—”
“Dad, you don’t really know what I need. You never have. And I don’t appreciate you meddling in my life. You have absolutely no idea what you’ve done by calling him here,” I tell him. “But don’t worry, I’ll be gone in the morning and you won’t have to worry about my mistakes bringing me to your doorstep anymore.”
“Kasey—”
He reaches for me as I walk around him, but I shrug his hand off and walk into the house. Spencer is in the kitchen, right where I left him. He flashes me a triumphant smirk as I stand on the other side of the island from him. With my arms still crossed over my chest, I wait until I hear my dad’s bedroom door upstairs close before I speak.
“I’ll be filing a restraining order first thing in the morning,” I say.
“On what basis? I’ve never laid my hands you. I’ve never done anything to you. I’m afraid you will never actually get that order,” he says.
“Maybe not, but you of all people know how much people love to talk inside the law community. If word were to get out that I even filed a petition for an order, what do you think people would say?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Like I care.”
“You do. I know better than anybody just how much what other people think matters to you,” I respond. “It’s why we had to have the nicest of everything, isn’t it? The house, the cars, the jewelry. It’s why you wear those three thousand-dollar suits, isn’t it?”
His expression darkens, but conscious of my father upstairs, he manages to reel his temper back in. Spencer lets out a slow breath, his eyes locked onto mine.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go get that bag of money. After that, you’re getting into my car, and I’m taking you home. And you will forget this divorce nonsense. Am I clear?”
